Saturday Nights

It’s not uncommon to find yourself shying away from the at times exhausting lifestyle that most of us grew accustomed to during and recently after our college years, chalk full of day-drinking, middle of the night meanderings, somewhere between disturbing and impressive consecutive nights partying streaks, and everything in between, as you settle into your mid-twenties, and instead, and with increasing regularity, prefer the cocoon of your couch, the warmth of a steaming, non-alcoholic drink, and the shear amazement that accompanies hangover-free Sunday mornings. Given that I’ve recently begun my descent of the famed ‘Twenties Mountain,’ I can attest to, while I’m sure less frequently than most, opting to ‘sacrifice’ a night of my weekend to watch some bad movies, stay up late knowing my body won’t hate me in the morning, and never quite finding motivation to wear anything besides sweatpants and a hoodie. More times than not, I’m merely not actively seeking plans, as opposed to dodging or skipping out on any previously discussed options for weekend excursions. I was faced with one of these such occasions last weekend.

I ended 2010 with a flurry of activity, and started 2011 even crazier. Vacations, holidays, parties, projects, banquets; it seemed like I didn’t take a break. So when the last weekend of February was finally rolling around, there was a moderate portion of me that was legitimately looking forward to my normal, fun Friday night, then casually doing absolutely nothing the rest of the weekend. Throughout the day, as names, numbers, texts, and phone calls built up, little fragments of plans and semblances of ideas were leaving my evening in flux. After a delicious dinner, I settled on my couch, waiting for plans to reveal themselves, caught between not feeling like going out and not wanting to waste a weekend. Don’t get me wrong, as surprisingly rewarding and refreshing a Saturday night in sweatpants can be, I still look at weekends in the same, if not slightly brighter light that I used to when partying was an elevated concern. I don’t like to let the day of the week define my mood, but there is no arguing the fun that going out on the weekend is compared to a week night.

The night lumbered on, hours flicking from 7 to 8, 8 to 9, with no overly desirable option presenting itself, which, as this state in my night, I would have needed. Until a text. One of my best friends, who I hadn’t seen in a while, wasn’t able to join me out the night before due to work, so was pretty dead set on going out with her roommate, and was open to suggestion. While slightly leery at first, I decided to toss out a suggestion and claim that I was also wanting to go out. Still unshowered, unbuzzed, and unvertical, but not unmotivated, I got my shit together, had a few cocktails, and got my ass down to Lincoln Park.

My story isn’t that interesting, but reasoning for telling you is. If an opportunity to do something fun with someone you care about, there’s no reason you can’t find the motivation. This might sound like I’m saying you should go drinking instead of staying in, but I used broke that down in an attempt to show a real life example. Drinking does not have to be the catalyst. I’ve realized that I tend to see a lot of the same people so much more frequently than the other 95% of my friends. No insult to them, of course, or I wouldn’t continue this trend, but there is something to be said about seeing a wider sampling of people you consider to be friends, and especially those that are closer to you than the rest. I think I fall into a bad habit of taking for granted what was always so easy in the past. Whether we were going to school together, or living in the same dorm, or having the same home room teacher, or growing up down the street, it has been inherently accessible and realistically convenient to continually see a wide range of people. Now? It’s easier than ever to keep up to date on their lives, assuming they’re newsfeedians, but besides that, it’s easier and easier to take a few nights off to recharge the battery.

Is it simply because we’re getting older? The stress and strain and pain we’ve been putting our bodies through for the last 6+ years is catching up, and now, without a little soul nurturing, our glow will surely fade? I don’t know. I’ve seen some 50-year-olds that bring it harder and party longer every weekend, all summer. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with ignoring a few texts on a Saturday night and catching up on some sleep, but If you’re only doing it because you think you have to, go ahead and respond to a friend reaching out to you. It might not turn out to be the life-altering, story-generating, memory-engraving adventure you embark on this year, but given a chance to see one or two people that you truly care about, even regardless of how long it’s been, can make the few hours of missed sleep as trivial as bats with glasses.